I opened the door for the final time that semester. Suitcases in tow, I piled my remaining possessions into a plastic bag. Though the circus had dispersed for the year, which is where I found my place. The community of circus acts found refuge on the acres of Montana land mass.
Footsteps trekked toward the dorm room.
“Excuse my belongings scattered in your pathway.” Tossing each item over the next trying to make room for the fellow. Instead the grungy looking guy tossed a green backpack on top of the pile. I’m not a skeptic for judgments to be passed but honestly take a shower dude your scent could make babies spew.
My arms weak from the tugging of bags. I tried to wiggle around the enormous outdated choice for luggage. Tipping it over I heard a small chuckle. A picture had fallen out of the pocket. When I bent down to pick it up I knew whose bags toppled over.
BRIGGS BYINGTON.
The flight tag clearly marked for landing less than a couple hours ago. The outline of Briggs’ broad body implanted his cross-country shoes in the way of my migration approach. Breathing calm in front of my lifespan. He gathered all matters of my being into his. Clutching onto me, causing interception in case I tried to flee. His strong eyes connecting with mine, too proud to look away. Engulfed in an inaudible bond.
“What are you doing here? What about the backpacking tour?” My voice struggling to sound stable. He shook his head politely.
“My entire excursion was overwhelmed by the apparition of you. I had to come back, to see you and set things right between us.”
“You’re knowledge of my departure today is right as rain.” I slowly strolled my arms down the sides of his back.
“That isn’t the information I received. In fact there was not any information to go on. Even though you clearly are vacating the apartment today.” Helpless and annoyed, no messages were sent his way during the duration of the expedition.
“I just knew if it were me, and I were in your position I would have no reason to stay either. I would have probably packed up and gone back to my aunt’s house. Trae Lae you and I are of the same kind.” His lips igniting electricity with mine. “We are essential for one another’s company.” Starry-eyed, he pressed deeply into my kiss.
“Trae Lae, you are the other half. The purpose I choose to live for. With you all days cease to be gray, the rain never clouding on our parades. My dreams of reality only include you. I will fumble with my words forever if you would just let me tell you one phrase of harmonious value…I love you.” His round eyes spoke truth into my soul.
I love you, Briggs. Mouth the words I lustfully devoted myself too.
Cuddles in an upright position, my vision blurry. Trembling tears fell from my pupils to think I wanted to leave behind the only person who wanted me for all I have been, past present and hopeful future. We met again at the same spot of our first meet cute.
Ž
Next chapter following our love story begins with a bottle of whiskey and a baby bump. Joking, only joshing you worrisome observers. It starts with an opening applause as we made our way on stage.
Our welcoming bows perpendicular to the crowd. Performances for no one other than ourselves. Making bounding leaps and twirling ripples as the crowd soared with excitement.
Briggs and I, ultimately in sync. One another’s body and structure keeping careful tabs. Our movements in unison, copying that of our partner. We took our sturdy layout of actions. Sweet smiles radiating the hot heat of love we knew as true companionship.
Hearts pounding as the past flees from our fingertips. More than empty spaces to store our new beginnings. Worries and deceit of yesterday contradict us no longer. Movements guiding us through tangible corridors of amorousness and correct conscious state.
Onward we made our way to the next possible adventure of our ever bright lite paradise.
Cheers! You’ve completed reading about the circus in me.
Thank you! May yours be better lived!
Start of a New Beginning.
Obligations
Firstly, to my wonderful endearing husband Keenan, your support and appreciation is monumental.
Thank You.
To my son for always having nap time in accordance to my writing episodes.
Thank You.
Dee, my delightful humorous father-in-law, who took special interest in my writing and believed in its abilities.
Thank You.
Uncle Philip for teaching 7th grade English classes about prepositions.
Brent Taylor, may I call you Brent? From Teen Eyes Editorial for perfecting my written word.
Thank You.
To specimens I observed while on my adventures at BYU-I, who fell victim to my storytelling.
You’re Welcome.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo Credit: Divine Photography
Author of The Tangled Tears
S.M.’s origin of script commenced at the earliest of eons. Growing copious ambitions to be a novelist. Exploration of choice roads in making this goal complete. Deliberating self-publishing the best way for her, bringing into print The Tangled Tears; a novel in 2013.
Proclaimed to a livelihood of a dream catcher. Imaginative power fueling her inspired projects; more Young Adult novels in route.
Clean of ink stains and paper cuts, she dabbles in scrap-booking & wood crafts, and enjoys cooking.
S.M. lives in Idaho with her husband and son.
www.sbjarnson.blogspot.com
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